Changing Winds
by parapacal
Summary: Finnick Odair has a sister, and her fate is as complicated as Finnick's, maybe even more. As the second Hunger Games after Finnick's arrives, the Capitol gives it a little...twist.
1. Chapter 1

I hear the call for the fishermen that goes off every morning at four thirty. Reaping day is never exempt. The fishers—including my brother and my father (who don't fish anymore)—seem to find a way every year to sleep through it; although, my mother and I always wake up and lay in our beds waiting until it stops. I hear the annoying foghorn-sounding call go off for five minutes until I can nestle into my bed and fall asleep again.

Before my brother—Finnick Odair—won the Hunger Games, I would help him and my father pack before they went and fished. I would pack their lunches with my mother and by then it would be time for school. My mother and I still work at the shop we own in town, even though we have enough money to sell the business and just live.

Reaping Day the year Finnick was called was devastating.

_I am standing on the sidelines with my parents because I am only ten. We wait in anticipation as our Districts escort—Cecily Poltoon—reads off the girl Tribute's name: Vonnie Dart. I am relieved that it isn't someone I know. But then the boy Tribute's name is read. It feels like the whole gathering holds their breath, my family especially. _

_ Finnick Odair_

_ My mother weeps. My father has a blank look on his face. I start screaming and crying. Finnick—now up on the stage—looks down at me, and a single tear crawls down his face as he wiggles his fingers at me, a quivering smile on his face as if to say_, Everything will be alright.

_ We make our way into the Justice building. My father strokes my hair as I clutch onto his shirt. We reach the room Finnick is in, and I immediately run and cling onto him. He whispers in my ear, "Everything's gonna be alright, Philippi, I'm gonna win just for you," tears choke his words. "Take care of Mommy and Daddy for me, okay. Everything's gonna be okay." He repeats this last sentence quietly as he strokes my hair like my father did. There is a wet stain where my salty tears hit his shirt from me laying my head on his chest. My father and mother stand quietly back a few feet, crying. My father's arm is wrapped around my mother's waist, my mother is crying on my father's shoulder. Finnick signals for them to come over. _

_ "Mother, Father, I know this is bad, but I'm gonna try my hardest. I know I'm gonna win. There's no need to be worried."_

_ "We have every right to be worried," my__mother says. "We're your parents."_

_ I am still on Finnick's lap._

_ The Peacekeepers come in and have to pry my screaming body from Finnick. He wiggles his fingers in a wave, the tears waterfalling down his cheeks. _

ΔΔΔ

Now is the seventieth Hunger Games, two years later. My family and I are standing on the stage. Finnick is to be the mentor for the new Tributes. Cecily is up there as well, pulling the girl Tribute's name from the bowl. I glance around the gathering, wondering who it will be. Cecily reads the name.

_Philippi Odair._

What? It can't be! Finnick won the Hunger Games two years ago! I should be exempt from the Reaping. I glance at Finnick; there is a look of pure terror in his eyes. My mother starts crying, my father has that same blank look he had two years ago when Finnick was called.

The crowd chatters. Even Cecily rereads and rereads the slip of paper, not believing what she sees. But I know that there is no mistake. What blows my mind is that my name is called, and it's not the Quarter Quell. I could understand if it was the Quarter Quell, but, it isn't. Our mayor rushes inside the Justice Building to make a call to the Capitol. He rushes back out five minutes later.

"It's true," he mutters into a microphone. "The Tribute is Philippi Odair. President Snow said that her name being placed in the bowl was no mistake."

That sends a new wave of sobs into my mother. I robotically step forward, every step threatening to make me fall over. My eyes are wide. I look back at Finnick, and he looks shocked. His body is rigid, his eyes cloudy with forming tears.

"And now!" Cecily Poltoon screams into the mic with renewed excitement as if nothing ever happened but the usual. "The boy Tribute is…Kiefer Hart!" Kiefer Hart is a sixteen-year-old. His muscles are toned from hauling in nets. He smiles softly at me. He pities me, for I am only twelve. I know I have no chance to win. I know the Careers from One, Two, and Three have a better chance, but I know that I have to try.

I'm shaking violently in the Justice building. My family enters. I grasp Finnick like I did two years ago, making a stain of tears in the exact same spot on his chest. He utters the same, "It's gonna be alright," in my ear, stroking my hair, adding, "I know you're gonna win. You can fish; you know how to survive in the wild. Remember? I taught you three years ago when we snuck in the woods. You're handy with weapons. I remember Daddy showing you when he went through his heavy-duty fishing gear for the big fish. I remember you waiting until he left, and you told me to watch you when you tried it out for yourself. You were a natural. You handled those tools like you had been using them for years. You're also smart. I've seen your quick wit and instinct when the boys from school chased you and tried to attack you, and I couldn't help you because they pinned me down. You fended them off. You. Are. Going. To. Win. I know it." Tears choke these words, too, but I believe every one of them. My mother smiled slightly when she heard these words, my dad did also. The Peacekeepers come, and once again have to pry me off of my brother. One looks at me with sympathy, he thinks that I have no chance. I know better.


	2. Chapter 2

ChApter Two

The walk to the train station is bitter. My classmates look at me, their faces expressionless but pale. The harsh wind clips my face, leaving red marks. I wrap my arms around my body. It's unseasonably cold here in Four. I look over at Kiefer. He is shivering under his coat. There are cameras everywhere, I try to stay strong, to appear tough, but it's hard to appear tough when you're at least a few years younger than most of the Tributes. My brother is ahead of us. I forgot that he was to train us.

We are hurried onto the train by Cecily.

"Okay!" She yells excitedly. "This has been the most unusual Reaping since the last Quarter Quell, but we have more important things to focus on. Like training you guys!" She points an exuberant finger at us and grins a million-watt smile while jumping up and down. I glance over at Finnick, he unsuccessfully tries to conceal a mocking smile.

"Well," Finnick says before Cecily could say anything more, "Two staff-members will escort you to your rooms. There are clothes in the drawers. Cecily wants you to dress professionally for dinner." He whispers the last line while Cecily is checking her clipboard. A man and a woman enter the room we are in, and guide us by the elbow to our rooms. I enter to find a neatly-decorated room with a plush bed. I go through a side door to find a bathroom. I strip my clothes off and enter the shower. I press the set of buttons that I usually do at home, adding a scented lotion to the end. I don't feel cold anymore from the walk outside.

I open the dresser still wrapped in a robe. There are multiple sets of clothes. I pick out a red flowy dress with a faux animal fur shrug. I brush my hair out, and it tumbles out in waves down my shoulders. I wander around the train until I find the dining room.

Everyone gradually enters the room and sits down at the elegant mahogany table. Servers set out food in courses. I eat with my utmost manners, not wanting Cecily to mother me about my table habits. Finnick grins at me when Cecily isn't looking, because he knows that at home I would never be so anal about my etiquette. I look down and pick at my lamb stew, embarrassed. Kiefer is trying to copy my manners. More than once do I find him glancing over at me and trying to mimic my behavior. I gently kick him under the table and half-smile.

Cecily begins talking about strategy over dessert.

"Well, Kiefer, I expect you are going to have no trouble when it comes to finding food," She begins.

"If there is a lake," Finnick interjects.

"I don't think that there wouldn't be one since the desert Hunger Games,"

No one speaks for a minute or so.

"Anywho!" Cecily shouts. "What about you, Philippi? What are your strengths?" She cocks her head to the side.

"Well, I can fish, I know wilderness survival skills," I smile at Finnick, "I know how to use some weapons, and I'm fast," I keep my gaze on Cecily who is writing what I said down.

"Well!" She continues, "That is not what I expected from a twelve-year-old like you! I think that you are going to start out well in the Games!"

Finnick stands up and slams his hands on the table with authority. "What do you mean 'start out well'? She has good chances! She can win!"

Cecily snorts and puts her hand over her mouth. "I highly doubt that. Take one look at those Careers, and you'll see the odds. Don't be so unreal, Finnick, she's small and untalented compared to the other Districts. The only people I could see her killing is District Twelve!"

"Excuse me!" I yell. "I may be twelve, but I am more skilled than most of the Districts out there! I can fish, I can use a knife, I can start a fire, I know what plants are poisonous and not—

"But there is size! The Careers could crush you like a berry!" Cecily runs a hand through her seafoam-green hair agitatedly.

"Don't talk about my sister like that!" Finnick screams. He runs over to me and stands behind me, his hands on my shoulders. Kiefer just sits in his chair with a death grip on his silverware, looking forward, his eyes bugged-out in anger. I turn around and storm out of the dining room. Cecily and Finnick chase after me. They stand in the threshold to the corridor, watching me. I stand a few feet down the hallway. I punch the wall and leave a large dent in it, a few inches in. I swing my head toward Finnick and Cecily; I didn't realize they were following me. Their eyes are huge. A smile creeps up on Finnick's face.

Cecily ruins the moment.

"Punching a hole in the wall doesn't improve your odds!" she sings. I grunt and go to my room.


	3. Chapter 3

ChApter three

I flop down on my bed and bite down on my pillow, hard. When I finally unclamp my jaw from the soft material, my mouth hurts. I take off my clothes, pull on a nightgown, and close my eyes, willing sleep to come. Tomorrow I will be in the Capitol, left to the hands of my stylists.

I'm woken up by the cold hands of Finnick. He shakes me awake like he used to back home before school. I grimace at the old memory. I groan, and slap him with the pillow. He returns the gesture by pulling the covers off me, onto the floor, leaving me in the cold of the air-conditioning. I get up, ignoring the chuckling Finnick, and rub my eyes.

I shove my brother out of the room, and get dressed in a white camisole covered by a shirt of sparkly-blue chiffon with a double V-neck. I match it with a pair of slim, black chinos. I pull on some silver flats and brush my hair, unaware of the tortures my stylists will put me through.

I hasten to breakfast.

The table setting is as ornate as the night before, food set out in a buffet on side tables, and nice place-settings on the table. I bring a plate to the buffet and fill it with a ton of food: pastries, breads, and eggs. Finnick is so quiet that I don't notice him picking at his food. I slide in the chair next to him and hug him.

"Don't try to console me, to tell me it's alright," He whispers. I see a tear roll down his cheek.

"You had your turn, Finnick. Now it's mine to make you feel okay."

"You shouldn't be here. In the Games. It's all my fault." He bursts out in tears.

"What are you talking about?"

"You look really nice,"

"Don't change the subject," I snap.

"During the Games, I shouted out to the Capitol in the Arena, knowing they would hear me. I was just mad that Panem could allow a monstrosity like the Games. How they were ruining innocent lives. Apparently they heard it, although it wasn't broadcasted. I guess this is how they get me back for doing that. They're afraid of a rebellion."

"Please don't tell me that you're gonna rebel,"

"No, not now, that would be fatal. But if the time comes—

"No, not ever," I command. "At least, without me," I whisper and smile at him; he smiles back.

"Never would dream of it." He scoops some cheese that seeped out of his pastry earlier and shovels it into his mouth while getting up to leave.

There is a flourish of pastel colors as Cecily bursts through the door, Kiefer in tow.

"Hello!" She sings twirling around like a little girl.

We all mumble half-hearted hellos, not in the mood for optimism.

"Finnick, sit down," She says cheerily. "We have to go over our schedule. Okily, dokily!" Cecily still shouting despite the early hour (her Capitol accent only adding to the overall 'annoying' effect). "When we stop, we are going straight to your stylists. Please, please, please do whatever they tell you to do. Then you are all on your own until dinner!"

That is what she has to tell us? Even I could've figured that out before she came in. Oh, well. That's Cecily for you.

The inside of the train all of a sudden gets dark.

We are in the Capitol.


	4. Chapter 4

ChApter Four

I press my face against the window in the dining room. I watch with awe as the pastel and neon-colored buildings come into view. There are people bustling down the streets, sporting the most ridiculous hairdos that I have ever seen. It is mesmerizing. I stand there as long as I can before Cecily drags me away from the window. She takes me and Kiefer into a steel building, almost all windows. The doors swing open. I am taken to a room.

_RIP!_

"OW!" My stylists, Carmin and Julian, rip all the hair off by body besides my head.

"Pain is beauty!" Carmin shouts while taking another strip of hair of my leg.

_Well I should be drop-dead gorgeous during the games, _I think.

When they are done, they wrap me in a paper robe and tell me to wait until my head-stylist, Dellan, comes in.

"You must be Philippi!" He says, hugging me. "Well, here's your outfit!"

He pulls out a beautiful tight turquoise dress. I slip it on, and he begins his real work. He paints on scales on my body, beautiful turquoise and silver scales. He sweeps on turquoise eye shadow and lipstick and makes me put on turquoise satin ballet shoes that lace up my legs.

"I'm a fish," I say, smiling.

He just ushers me out the door.


End file.
